Lew Williams Chevrolet, Eugene, OR 1960
(first published in 2007) Three days after our psychedelic nocturnal arrival in America, my family arrived at our final destination: Iowa City. The transition was a rude awakening from a fantastic dream straight into a bad nightmare. We’d traded Austria’s alpine vistas for three days of New York’s towering skyscrapers and freeways, only to watch the World of Tomorrow evaporate in the blazing August sun, now replaced by endless corn fields and arrow-straight gravel roads. I sought and found spiritual consolation in the air conditioned GM dealerships, having traded Innsbruck’s stone Church of the Sacred Heart for the crystal cathedral of Saint Mark of Excellence.
We landed in the US — in a red and white Swissair DC-8 — at a critical turning point in Detroit’s styling evolution. The Harley Earl era of gaudy fins and excess chrome was ending, and GM’s new styling chief, Bill Mitchell, was just beginning to exert his artistic influence. The 1960 Corvair was astonishingly clean and lean. The full size 1961 GM cars were smaller, lighter and more graceful, having shed several hundred pounds of fins and bling. I became a seven year-old Mitchell acolyte.
I covered every square inch of my side of the bedroom wall with the dreamy icons of his handiwork, thanks to Life magazine. The Wide-Track Pontiac ads rendered by Art Fitzpatrick and Van Kaufman were the standout; the automotive equivalent of vintage “Vargas Girl” Playboy paintings.
I became a chronic sinner, mentally-masturbating at the eye-candy as I fell asleep. I went to confession, but the priest didn’t quite understand what I meant.
Having been car-less in Austria, I looked forward to our first set of wheels with high expectations. I was hoping for a replication of the his-and-hers matching navy blue 1960 Pontiac Bonneville hardtop and wagon sitting in the driveway across the street. My father, who somehow forgot to consult me, instead brought home a dull, plump well-used 1954 Ford sedan, seen here on our many outings in a vain attempt to find places to hike in Iowa. He’d pull over on a country road and start walking. Inevitably farmers would pull over and ask us if we were broken down and needed a ride. Trying to explain to them our actual purpose only resulted in looks of puzzlement.
On frigid winter mornings, Mom used to pray for divine intervention that St. Henry’s elderly sedan would start. The big Ford’s main compensation: an ample rear sofa upon which the four of us kids could fight.
Two years later, in an inspired display of paternal sadism, Pop traded in the geriatric blue whale for a barely mid-sized black hair-shirt 1962 Ford Fairlane sedan., seen here with my mother and younger brother, on another of our many vain attempts to find places to hike in Iowa. For the coup-de-grace, he bought clear, smooth plastic seat covers as an additional opportunity to speed our time atoning for our sins in the rolling Purgatory. With his hyper-sensitivity to drafts, he barely cracked the windows. Trapped in that stuffy, cramped torture chamber, summer vacation trips made Abu Grhaib look like the Ritz. Wearing the mini-shorts of the day, we literally had to peel each other off those searing plastic seat covers.
In 1964, I unwittingly co-opted my family to fulfill my spiritual need for the auto-Hajj. The 6.75 of us (Mom was seven months pregnant) drove three sweltering August days in the black Fairlane to NYC to join the teeming hordes of hot and sweaty pilgrims in circling (counterclockwise) and entering that most hallowed car-Ka’aba: GM’s Futurama exhibit at the 1964 Worlds Fair. Sacred vows prevent me from revealing the other-worldly experiences of those precious hours in that heavenly temple. Suffice it to say, I was now fully initiated in the cult of St. Mark of Excellence.
On the Sabbath, I would take the wheezing old (but GM!) bus downtown to the local Chevrolet/Buick/Cadillac dealer for my weekly worship. I gladly spent the better part of the day just hanging around– especially on summer weekdays when the service shop was open. I sat for hours in devotion, preferably in the magnificent chapel of St. Riviera, facing the altar of its heavily chromed and jeweled dashboard, with a stack of sacred scriptures in my lap.
Photographic memories of those heavy-stock bibles flash before me – especially the Cadillac books with onionskin protecting the impeccable color plates. And like a Sunday-schoolboy reciting the Ten Commandments, I can still regurgitate every GM power train detail, including name (“Super Turbo-Thrift”), horsepower, bore and stroke, compression ratio, camshaft type and carburation.
The annual high-holy days occurred each fall, when the dealers unveiled the new objects of veneration. Days before, I would poke around the dealership, hoping to catch an uncovered glimpse of the revelations to come. On the appointed day, a pious crowd would gather to partake in communion of hot chocolate and doughnuts. Once the veils were removed, spontaneous ejaculations of praise to the high-priest Mitchell rang out into the crisp autumn air.
Having passed the test of sitting four straight hours in veneration in the Riviera (I was allowed to alternate between the front and back bucket seats) I became an official altar boy. That allowed me to freely wander the sacristy, where the religious objects were serviced and prepared. I considered cars to be living and breathing entities, and the shop reminded me of the hospital where my father worked. Cars were poked, probed, and elevated. Bodily fluids were drained and oral medications administered. Watching the mechanic hook up the enormous Sun Engine Analyzer was analogous to the EEG tests my father monitored for crucial brain functioning.
Observing my favorite priest pull the engine out of a ’55 Chevy and disassemble it right in front of me was almost too much, though. A painful memory of having witnessed a hog being eviscerated in an ancient barn in the Alps when I was five flashed before me. Watching that Chevy’s small-block heart and soul reduced to piles of parts was the unraveling of a deep mystery and my first religious crisis. But hardly my last.
That black and white photo of the dealer up top immediately tapped into the anticipation I felt each August as a young boy awaiting Septembers launch of the new models.
I recall driving by a dealers with my Dad and craning my neck to catch a glimpse of those glamorous, shiny cars gracing the showroom floors. I couldn’t wait to grow up and be able to walk into a dealer to buy the car of my dreams.
In those years of the 60’s and early 70’s the Impala was the best seller…and each year it became a game, waiting to spot the first new Impala on the road.
Too bad young people today who may be interested in cars won’t have the same experience…most cars are utterly boring, in appearance anyway, and new cars seem to come out all year long.
That exact building is still in Eugene, and has been empty (at least in the front) for many, many years now. Friends and I have long thought it would make a good concert/show venue, as it is less than a half mile from U of O student housing.
What a breathtaking building! It’s disappointing that the windows are no longer floor-to-ceiling, but even so, I’m glad to hear it’s still standing. Evidently it was named to the National Register of Historic Places in 2011 in tribute to its architectural significance.
Recent appearance:
Not to nitpick, but according to Google, at the time the photo was taken it was Lew Williams Chevrolet. It became Joe Romania Chevrolet in 1969.
Thanks for that; I’ve updated the caption.
I too was a devotee of GM until it was determined that the blood of Oldsmobile needed to be spilled to appease and feed the remaining Gods. Oldsmobile had committed no sins that I could discern, and certainly no sins that warranted the ultimate punishment of death. I turned away from the one true American faith that day… and after insult was added to injury and my Cutlass was stolen and stripped… I bought a car that frugal old St. Henry himself would have appreciated, a 1997 Ford Escort station wagon. Thrifty and utilitarian. My next purchase one of the last of the 10th generation F-150s with a fairly unchanged body style and powertrain for nearly 10 continuous years (something St. Henry would have appreciated.) I continue in my heresy and it will take much effort by the gods themselves to return me to the fold.
Myself, as well. I’ve been driving Grand Marquis ever since.
the good lord blessith the Power of Rocket … as no other could. Amen !
Olds was building some of the best GM cars when it was wacked , what a shame.
I can remember like it was yesterday, a cool October day when I saw my first 63 Parisienne. My dad,some of his buddies,my 12 year old brother and myself all looking at the showroom. The dealer had just pulled the cover off of the most beautifull vehicle ever created, in my 8 year old judgement. Even now,some, nearly 50 years later I can see my dad and smell his old spice. “Mikey”….. {believe it or not I’ve been MIkey my whole life}”…… Mikey”….said my dad” I’m going to buy that car”…..I didn’t understand at the time the Parisienne was beyond my dads means. However the blue Laurention we took home was just as cool.
We had a 53 Ford much like yours but the Mainline 2 door. Flathead 6, three on the tree. Dad got over 100,000 miles out of it. Rare back than. Great memory
Nothing more beautiful than gazing at the machines from back before liberalism destroyed America. A real testament to the beauty and promise of their era. None of the hideous bloated government mandated monstrosities of today are fit to be called an automobile in comparison.
Well I don’t think people will miss the lack of safety or the hazardous emissions, but that doesn’t mean these cars aren’t really cool! (lead can be found in the soil along old interstates and highways from the time leaded gas was used)
Well, we can be glad lead is not used in gas anymore. According to CDC:
Before the use of leaded gasoline was banned, most of the lead released into the U.S. environment came from vehicle exhaust. In 1979, cars released 94.6 million kilograms (208.1 million pounds) of lead into the air in the United States. In 1989, when the use of lead was limited but not banned, cars released only 2.2 million kg (4.8 million pounds) to the air.
Ben, Ben, Ben, no need to turn an innocent web site devoted to automobile history enthusiasts into something else. There are plenty of other outlets to serve your brand of patriotism.
My advice…turn off Faux, get out of the house, and find yourself a life partner that will bring you happiness.
The subject here is cars.
I am so damned tired of hearing ‘liberalism’ used as an invective. The cleaner air we enjoy, the disappearance of eyesores like rivers that catch fire and junkyards full of unrecycled crap, the lack of fear that our very food might be tainted and make us sick, the fact that we can cohabitate with our someone without fear of being fired or arrested, and the civil rights that we enjoy are all due to ‘liberalism’. The USA that the conservatives pine for was toxic and needed to change. I hate to feed the troll, but I needed to vent.
ben5, threadshit your political opinions elsewhere.
MarcKyle64, around the same time the clean air and safety regs came, the GMO (genetically modified) food revolution started and one example that shows that we might still have to worry about what is on your plate tonight is that to make a certain nut resistant to something, scientists took part of a gene out and replaced it with a fish gene so even though you have “lower” chances of food poisoning now, sour chances for allergic reactions with foods are MUCH higher now and statistics can prove me right.
I’m sorry but I just had to get it out of me.
Warmest regards to all,
Alfasaab99.
Funny how the word “liberal” has come to mean something bad. If liberal means looking at all the issues with an open mind,then liberal I am. If liberal means hating America, and having more control and regulations in our lives, then liberal I`m not.I I am not a member of either party. If I vote, I tend to vote for the person or party whom represents me the best. When it comes to the condition of America today,I blame both parties, but most of all I blame the American voters for making the wrong choices.We should remember one thing-the government doesn`t own us, we own the government.
I could have written that! 🙂
If I recall, democracy was a rather “liberal” concept not that long ago.
Remarkable is that “liberal” (“liberaal” in Dutch) is right-wing here.
Then again, that political party would still be considered as pretty left-wing in the US. So the name “liberal” still stands tn that case.
We’ve got a zillion political parties here, way too many. I remember the days that all religions had their own party. Pretty simple, as a Catholic you voted for the KVP (Catholic People’s Party, translated). Standard procedure.
Back to the cars. I was 12 when I visited a dealer’s showroom for the first time. Ford, in this case. We bought our first brand new car, a 1978 Ford Fiesta 1100S.
I grew up between diesel equipment. Small and big trucks, vans, farm tractors, forklifts. All that kind of very interesting machinery for children.
Maybe I`m wrong on this, but to me Kennedy`s Catholicism didn`t seem to be a big issue in the `60 election. It just seemed that America found Kennedy to be the better candidate than Nixon, who did come come across as being sweaty and unfoucsed in the debate.Even though I was quite young at the time, I always liked JFK and, in retrospect found him to be right on most issues, especially in that Cold War era. Remember the Cuban Missle Crisis? I thought JFK handled that brilliantly.
Phil, exactly in that era my father served the Dutch Army. He was in Germany a lot. Let’s say that the Cuba Crisis got the Army’s “attention” back then.
It has been a while since Protestants and Catholics bashed each other’s heads here…still, we were from “below the rivers”; Catholic area. And “they” were from the “other side”.
And ‘entitlement’ changed from something you earned and were entitled to into a undeserved handout. Since I was raised a Catholic, my church was Our Lady Of Eternal Guilt.
Oh Blessed Mother of Acceleration ~ Don’t fail me now ! .
=8-) .
-Nate
Serious business ! “Our Endearing Lady church” is very common here. Of course we also have the “Our Endearing Lady street”, the “Our Endearing Lady school” etc.
Just STOP – all of you.
THANK YOU for addressing this cheap shot ben tried to sneak past the rest of us non mouth breathers .
-Nate
So anyone that has different beliefs than you is a “mouth breather”? How elitist. BTW, I’m middle-of-the-road, as there is ample stupidity on both the extreme right and the extreme left that pisses me off to no end.
” So anyone that has different beliefs than you is a “mouth breather”? ”
No , of course not , way to make my point by lying .
-Nate
ben5,
I join caljn and MarcKyle64 when I say,”Go peddle yer papers somewhere else”. When I log onto CC, it”s with the purpose of getting away from political bickering!! Having said that,I too,remember the anticipation of the new model year.I knew where all the dealers in town kept the new cars.I’d ride my bike around to the lots on Sundays(they were closed,remember blue laws?),lean the bike against the fence and climb up on the seat.I can clearly recall the first time I saw a ’59 Chevy,late October,1958. I thought the Martians had landed! Pity,I just can’t see any kid today doing the same thing to catch a glimpse of the new Hyundai Sonata.
Great religious references, I found them clever and amusing. My heritage being Bavarian and Croatian (and having Bosnian relatives), all of the references have a delicious double-entendre that had me laughing out loud. Hard to explain to my Protestant Scotch-Irish wife… You have a good point, this hobby of ours IS like a little sect or cult. Another thing I was laughing at was the non-A/C Fairlaine, we too, had an austere ’62, after the much better equipped ’57 irritated my father for the last time.
I’m 48, so by the time I can remember much, the annual new car changeover was not the spectacular it had been. By that time, a new large shopping mall had been built in our area (not a plaza- that was so 1959), and the new car dealers that had been an easy 20 minute walk from my house were now on the outer fringes… by the mall. However, whenever we did go to the dealership for something or another, I would invariably wander into the showroom and sample all of the wares. In our case, we were a Mercury family, so I’d slide into everything from the Capri to whatever version of the Mark was being peddled at that time. It was usually the highlight of my week when that happened.
Then I became aware of girls…
I too often observe the long vacant GM dealership building , pictured here in black and white, as I pass by. I think it would make, maybe because of it’s shape, a great skateboard store. Some of my earliest memories of Eugene are of guys riding short skinny hard wheeled skateboards on sidewalks in Skinner’s Butte Park in the mid 60’s. I was then being blessed with riding in either a dark green ’50 Chevy two door sedan (a little longer than a coupe, also not a fastback), or a white ’62 VW Kombi bus. The bare model , literally bare gray metal inside, it was not a passenger model as it had no seats. Us kids sat on the engine cover , restrained by a seatbelt Dad installed from one side to the other, where we could listen to the purr of the little engine that could, and on cold days, warm up from it’s heat.
Great article! As a boy growing up in San Rafael (11 miles north on U.S. 101 up from San Francisco), come the last week of August; 1st week of September, I’d ride my bike to all the (domestic) dealerships – in the late 60s/early 70s most of them in San Rafael were on West and East Francisco Boulevard – and ride around to the back fenced in lot areas to see if the newest ‘next years’ models were desposited out back.
Fords at Ames Ford/Wayne Cross Ford usually were first. I’d see the new models usually show up in late August. Sometimes, I’d get lucky and if it were after school, I might see them coming down off the trucks. By the late 60s/early 70s when I was of age where I could ride a bike around all over the place by myself, the only two dealerships downtown were Bianco Motors (Pontiac/Cadillac/Ramber – AMC and eventually Honda), which was on Fourth Street and Bugna/Marin-Bay Lincoln Mercury on Third Street. Remember viewing my first 1967 Firebird (around February ’67) while getting shoes at a shoe store with my Mom a block away from Biancos.
We had in our family two Bianco Pontiacs – the ’61 Catalina Safari wagon and my first car (from a lady down the street) – a ’61 Catalina Sedan with only two optional accessories – the piece-of-crap three speed RotoMatic Hydra-Matic and a heater. No power steering – no power brakes – 230hp 2bbl 389.
The very first time I saw a CRX, it was through the open service dept door of Bianco on 4th. I have NO idea why I was walking on that end of 4th street though. It was long before I lived in SR, and not a part of town I often visited. It a Bananas at Large music store now. Just not the same.
It was at Jack L. Hunt down the street where I saw the twin-engine CRX for sale many years ago (and many years later). If I could have afforded it, I would have bought it in a heartbeat.
As a kind reminder to all of us out there in comment land on this – the most EXCELLENT of all car sites – this site is about CARS – not about who is politically right/wrong/left/right/middle/up/down or whatever. Blame (spilled milk) transporation-wise can be laid at the doorstep of all political affiliations who were in charge of various administrative posts locally or nationally throughout the years. What was then is now history – what may be is heresay, rumor and not yet written in black and white or stone.
Let us enjoy what we drove, the machines we wanted to have driven, what we now drive or want to drive and what we like or dislike about said cars – the CARS.
*VERY* well written Paul ! .
I hope you know how lucky you were as I was always chased right out the door of the Auto Dealerships I tried to look at those wonderful Automobiles in , much less you got to _sit_ in them ! .
I well remember leaving skin on the wretched plastic seat covers , to this day I refuse to wear shorts , _ever_ .
I remember wandering ’round the Service Department and the old Mechanics seeing how interested I was , would ask me if I know what a cam shaft (king pin , throwout bearing , whatever) was and could I point it out ? .
Yes , I knew when I was 4 and they were always amused when I’d point out the correct item .
Sadly , when we sent to the 1964 New York World’s Fair , I was flat forbidden to look at , talk about or visit anything Automotive , _especially_ the exhibits….
My dad was a shit ~ I have no idea what happened to his Childhood but he hated me every being happy .
-Nate
(awaiting a bunch of MotorHeads , we
re taking a back road Vintage Auto Cruise up to Solvang , Ca. to – day .)
In retrospect, I’m a bit surprised that the salesmen at the Chevy/Buick/Cadillac dealer put up with me as generously as they did. I do remember getting the “Oh, here he comes again” look when I arrived, and “how long are you going to sit in the Riviera?”looks. But never once did they actually say anything. Presumably they had kids of their own, or?
Welcome to the club; my dad never did anything to encourage our interests/passions. Going to the GM Futurama was probably just a coincidence. We did NOT go to the Ford or Chrysler exhibits (was there a Chrysler one?).
FWIW, he did have a painful childhood; his father was a colossal shit to him. So I guess he came by it honestly. But at least he was so involved with his work and his own interests, we had the time and freedom to explore and cultivate our own interests.
There was a Chrysler exhibit, but it was a general layout exhibit and didn’t have anything incredible than the GM and Ford exhibits.
I have very bittersweet memories of the ’64 World’s Fair. Dad, being a Chevrolet dealer, had passes for the two days we were there which got us in while all the other people were lining up for the building to open. So I got to ride the GM exhibit twice.
However, dad also had an absolute loathing of standing in line for anything. Which means we didn’t get to see anything else of the ‘must see’ exhibits at the fair. Yeah, we got to Chrysler because there wasn’t anything to stand in line to wait for. And we got to see all the international exhibits (except the USSR, I believe there was one, which my family wouldn’t have gone into under any conditions – Commies, you know) which nobody stood in line for. Boring, boring, boring.
Also, dad was a firm believe in not wasting money on souvenirs. I still have an injection molded Sinclair dinosaur, which were made in front of you when you put your fifty cents in the machine. And that was it. I think mom got a World’s Fair souvenir book, which I think I still have.
All in all, my parents did a wonderful job of making the World’s Fair a completely boring experience for a 14 year old boy.
my Dad was never a car guy but on a family trip to Adelaide Australia in about 1974, when I was about twelve he took me on a guided tour through the Chrysler plant .
He will always be a hero in my eyes for that.
wish I could remember more of it
I sympathise, Nate. My dad treated me like that too, but he grew up in an orphanage in the 1920s, so I have some idea of his childhood.
Unlike you, the nearest car dealers were about five miles away from where I lived, and I never had the chance for a look inside. The cars we had were always someone else’s cast-offs. But that didn’t stop me from developing a lifelong fascination.
Well, all fun things run their course and come to an end including the annual model change. It was instituted at the beginning of the Depression to stimulate demand and sales. It became a cultural phenomenon, a spiritual one for some, euphoria and all.
But time, fascinations and knowledge moved on, the scales fell from our eyes, saw past the dazzling styling to social problems that came with our car culture. Nothing is as ever prefect and sublime when viewed with clearer eyes…….maybe that’s just as well.
I’m not sure whether it’d even be technically feasible to keep a car’s look secret until a drop date in the internet era.
But they don’t even try anymore – reveals at the Detroit show in January with production to begin over the summer and cars reaching dealers in fall is common, and sometimes (coughsFocus) it can be nearly a year between when even a facelift is announced and when cars finally ship.
Hahaha! “St. Mark of Exellence” I’ve been going to a similar church lately: St. Standard of Basic Exellence.
How anticipated the September issue of Motor Trend was, with photos of the New Models. The 1960 version is still seared in my memory. Get a loada those headlights!
“Basic Excellence”; a good business lesson in what happens to companies that set low expectations for themselves. You need to shoot high, like GM. Oh…never mind.
As a kid, I lived for the day when that issue arrived in our mailbox in rural Indiana. The one below I continue to see in memory to this day. Paul isn’t the only child who worshiped the gods of Detroit (and Coventry, Stuttgart, etc.). Great piece.
The photo of the protest rally in San Francisco has the Ernest Ingold-George Olsen Chevrolet dealership (one of four Chevy dealerships in San Francisco at the time) in the middle background, but the real gem is to the left: Earle C. Anthony’s palace, built to proudly display Packards. This Packard showroom-dealership and Don Lee’s Cadillac building were the gems of San Francisco’s Auto Row. Barely visible on the roof are the twin mock broadcasting towers that at night displayed in red neon, “KFI Anthony” for the radio station owned by Anthony in far-off (400 miles) Los Angeles…but which could easily be heard on the AM car radios of the day.
Both the Packard and Cadillac edifices survive; the Cadillac showroom is now preserved as the front end of a multiplex theater but Anthony’s Packard palace is still a car dealer, now British Motors.
I stumbled into that picture on a GIS; as you know, it’s not how I used it in the article; it was a civil rights protest.
When I think about it, Stephanie and her parents could well have been there; she grew up doing things like that.
Always admired that Packard showroom; splendid.
I didn’t know George Olsen was a Chevy dealer (in my childhood he was a Cadillac franchise) but then San Francisco had 3-4 Chevrolet dealers at one time. Of course the one that sticks out in my mind is Ellis Brooks which was also on Van Ness Avenue, and had that catchy ad jingle. The old Ellis Brooks showroom is now a Nissan-Infiniti dealership (I think Mrs. Brooks still owns the building and Nissan had to really show that they would do justice to the space to convince her to let them have it).
Another Chevy dealer I remember in SF was Les Vogel, which moved out of SF years ago.
+1 for “St. Mark of Excellence!”
My family made two trips from North Carolina to Phoenix (recon, then moving) in a ’54 Customline sedan. 239 V8 and 3 on the tree.
St. Fred (the Old Man), like St. Henry, rejected the Doctrine of Air Conditioning.
Great article, I too miss the hoopla of the new model rollout. IMHO its disappearance marked just one more step of the car’s journey from object of desire to appliance.
I can’t believe that amazing mid-century building is vacant. What a waste.
I guess as long as you didn’t drool or otherwise foul the Riv you were OK… I too remember non-AC trips in the old ’63 Fairlane wagon… Red vinyl hell. Interesting perspective on engine teardown too!
The title made me think of a classic VW ad from the 60’s (“Father Al” was the long-time priest at the Catholic Mission on my Dad’s reservation in North Dakota.)
The world is so changed now that it’s hard to understand how amazing the annual release of the new cars was in the early 60’s. I can’t think of anything left today that has the same kind of anticipatory pleasure -perhaps 4th of July fireworks or Baseball season Opening Day?
The cars were just so spectacular in those days and every year the stylists created something new. In the late 50’s the cars were more outrageous every year – the magicians pulled ever more spectacular animals out of their hats every time. How outrageous could things get? I think that perhaps the answer to that question is the 62 Chrysler Imperial….
Then came the golden age of GM design – the 63 Stingray, the Rivera, the Impala, the GTO. I was a true believer. For me the high watermark for General Motors was the first Olds Toronado – an amazingly beautiful car, tremendously powerful, and technologically advanced. The beauty of GM cars continued on for a few more years – the 69 Chevelle comes to mind and the 1971 Camaro was the last GM car that I literally ached to own- but nothing could ever equal the stature of that Toronado.
I am generally very hard on GM these days, but a lot of that is the bitterness of remembering how great they were in those days. They were the greatest car company in the world -not just the largest, but the best- and somehow between 1967 and 1987 it all faded to black.
Thank you Paul, for your excellent article. You have really evoked the feeling of every young boy of the time…. Did you also observe the other great Automotive religious ceremony of the day – the running of the Indy 500? Does anyone else remember the excitement of Andy Granitelli’s STP turbine car?
I remember Mr. Granitelli’s car and his exploits very well indeed .
As you well know , I’m an un abashed Bowtie Guy and all aroub GM Apologist becuase I lovingly remember those wonderful GM vehicles dating back to about 1937 when they really kicked things into high gear .
For me , ’73 +/- was when they dropped the ball , first it was the poor running caused by the poorly designed and implemented E.G.R. Valves , the A.I.R. Pumps that warped the exhaust valves and caused tremendous back fires when the Gulp Valves stuck , basic (in retrospect) things like that , then they just stopped seeming to care after that point , some GM stuff still looked O.K. but build quality went into the toilet and no one seemed to care atall .
-Nate
Yes, but of course it was all bit more abstract, as in just reading about the 500; no tv coverage (at least for us), and obviously, nobody took me there 🙁
But I used to love reading about it, and I did go to the Indy 500 museum just this past fall, after the CC meet-up. I really should do a post on it, although my all-time favorite car (1928 Miller 91 FWD) wasn’t there 🙁
Another fabulous installment. My extended family were St. Mark people, but at that age, I was fully into St. Henry of Dearborn. So, I guess I was a protestant?
I recall getting some seat time in a 65 or 66 Olds 88 when Mom was getting the 64 Cutlass serviced. But after getting out to check on another car, I found the doors locked when I went back. Damned salesmen. But I showed ’em – I never, ever bought a new Oldsmobile. 🙂
The picture of the Lew Williams Chevrolet showroom reminds me of the Casa de Cadillac dealership in Sherman Oaks, CA – the retro look. BTW, Casa de Cadillac is still going strong today.
We did a post on that gem: https://www.curbsideclassic.com/architecture/dealership-classic-casa-de-cadillac-restored-to-its-full-1949-glory/
Paul: Once again a FANTASTIC read! I lierally laughed out loud several times as I read this (“I went to confess my sins, but the priest didn’t quite understand what I meant”). Thank you for suchan enjoyable diversion!! 🙂
Paul – thanks for another great reminisce – but surely you didn’t mean to categorize your purgatory in the plastic-seat-covered Fairlane by saying it made “…Abu Ghraib look like the Ritz.”
Poor choice for your hyperbole, methinks.
Isn’t that the nature of hyperbole? 🙂
When we moved to Southern California from Portland in November of 1967, our second story apartment balcony looked down at the service drive and mechanics bay that was Gianera Pontiac. (not sure about the name spelling). It still exists today as a Toyota dealership. I used to enjoy wandering through the lot on my way to and back from school. You could hear and smell the pre emission engines all day long during the week if the balcony sliding glass door was left open. I would have to report MM to the priest during confession. Dad raised us Catholic, but he tended to not practice what was preached, rather his motto was do as I say, not as I do.
Not to mention that wonderful smell of REAL GASOLINE exhaust ! .
-Nate
I remember the same experience in the late ’60s. I was on the Ford team since my earliest family cars were a ’63 Ford Falcon Squire and a ’65 Falcon DeLuxe wagon. In 1966 the family switched to Chevy because my grandfather befriended a Chevy dealer and he made all the car decisions, since my dad’s wagon belonged to the family business. Mom’s first car was a ’65 Corvair Monza 110 White over red and dad’s ’65 Falcon was traded for a ’67 Bel Air wagon followed by s succession of lower level Chevu wagons through 1973. When it came time for my first car, I went back to Ford in the nature of a $100.00 ’68 Torino GT that was a rusty disaster, and then the $450 ’65 Mustang 2+2 that I rebuilt piece by piece through high school.
I remenber going to the new car introductions at the local dealers every fall and the new car show at The Pittsburgh Civic Arena. I collected every piece of promotional meterals that ended up on the walls of my bedroom along with ads from National Geographic and Life magazine. It was a magical time when a kid could stand on a corner and name year make and model of every car that passed by. I knew every teacher at my grade school and every one on my street by what they drove. A new car was really a big deal back then.
Your last two sentences brought back a lot of memories. Over half a century later I still recall that my third grade teacher drove a mint green MG Magnette Saloon (this was in small town Indiana). And my junior high school English teacher had a new red Karmann Ghia. Every new car purchase in a small town was a cause for celebration and a source of fascination for car-obsessed kids. Fun times.
I’ve always had religion when it comes to cars, and this site is a regular hangout spot for me. Having been born in Windsor, Ontario, (across the river from Detroit) it was hard not to be fascinated with the different cars and trucks people drove and the new ones that came out every year. To this day my favorites are still the cars of the 1960’s, particularly those from GM (though there’s plenty of room in my dream garage for some of the Ford and Mopar offerings as well). The Pontiac ads, in particular, gave a picture of a world much different and more glamorous than our everyday reality, yet one that was still attainable. I’ve burned through more than a few rolls of film (and memory space) following my interest in old cars, and it’s something I’ll always keep up with.
Thanks for the great trip back in time and great writing. Those trips in that fairlane which COULD have been enjoyable were instead unhappy experiences. Ugh. Overheated, cramped, sticky, stuffy, uncomfortable, and for no real reason. I think the new model year changeover lasted in much diminished form as cars changed less from year to year until the early or mid 90s when manufacturers just introduced whatever new product they had whenever it was ready.
I love that illustration with the beautiful woman glancing longingly, into the Caddies back seat.
You just know she’s Thinking, “Gee I hope Bob doesn’t get pecker tracks all over that beautiful backseat”.
I’m sorry, I posted this lame assed observation previously, when Paul used the illustration for a a different article. The artwork for these GM ads was very good. Luckily, Picasso was not hired to do the illustrations. Bob, and that chick would’ve really done a number on that Caddies backseat. Sorry, I’ll stop now.
Your post brings back memories of the cars I had in my teen years and my female companions during the 1960’s. LOL!